The Vintage Teacup Club (25 page)

‘Maggie,’ he started, his head in his hands. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, looking up at her imploringly, his brow furrowed. ‘It was …’

‘Oh please don’t,’ Maggie said, her voice ice-cool in spite of the adrenalin that was coursing through her veins. ‘Don’t patronise me, Dylan.’

‘I didn’t know she was going to turn up, I swear.’ Dylan started, getting up and taking a pace towards Maggie.

‘And so, what?’ Maggie said, stepping back, the anger bringing a tremble into her voice now. ‘You would have had to wait till you next went back to the States to bed her? Or wait until someone else came along?’

‘It’s not like that,’ Dylan said, taking another step towards her, puppy-dog eyes wide.

‘You make me sick,’ Maggie said, shaking her head, her cheeks burning now. ‘After everything you said? You
made
me forgive you, you convinced me
you’d changed, Dylan, just so that you could make an even bigger fool out of me this time.’

She went over to the window, pushing past him, and opened it wide. On her dressing table in a little box was the wedding ring she’d once thought she might put on again. She thought about picking it up, then stopped herself; gold was in demand at the moment, she’d be able to sell it. Instead she unhooked Dylan’s print from the wall. Panic flickered across his face as she took it down. He reached out but before he could stop her, she lobbed the frame out of her window, throwing it with all her strength, and they both watched on as it shattered on the tarmac of the pavement in front of her house.

‘I think you’d better grab what you can and go, Dylan,’ Maggie said, calm returning to
her voice. ‘Don’t you?’

(July–August)

Alison stroked Pete’s arm. ‘It’s seven o’clock, darling,’ she whispered
to him gently. He
stirred and
then jumped a little.

‘What?’ he said, confused.

‘It’s seven o’clock, darling,’ Alison repeated.

‘Oh, thanks, Ali.’

Pete got up, still clumsy with sleep, and went over to the shower. It was only his third day at work, and his morning routine wasn’t automatic yet, but Alison didn’t mind waking up a bit early to nudge him and make them both coffee. The girls would be downstairs breakfasting, but these past couple of days Ali had left them to it and sneaked back upstairs so that she and Pete could enjoy another few minutes in bed
together.

She’d then pile up the pillows and lie back to talk to him as he got dressed in his suit for work. His stubble was gone now but his untidy curls were still there; she could tell he still wanted to retain the look of someone who had been in a band, once. It had only been a fortnight since Pete saw the careers counsellor who had kick-started his job search. He’d come home afterwards, buzzing with an energy she hadn’t seen in him in months.

‘We went right back to the beginning,’ he’d said, ‘and looked at the skills and experience I have and what I could do. It’s made me realise I was limiting myself to finding almost exactly the same role, in the same sector.’

Things had then moved so quickly it had surprised them both. Pete had seen a job in communications for a drug addiction charity, interviewed and been offered the job that same week.

‘You look sexy in that suit, you know,’ Ali said, and Pete bent down to kiss her.

She had on her silk kimono and her hair was loose.

‘You look pretty gorgeous right now too.’

‘I have to see my husband off to work with a smile on his face,’ she said, pulling him in closer for a passionate kiss.

‘Apart from that, what are you up to today?’ Pete asked, taking a reluctant step back and doing
up his tie.

‘I’m meeting up with Jamie to look at the new shop space,’ Alison said, trying to keep the regret from her voice. ‘He signed the lease last week.’

A sadness fell across Pete’s face then, as they both thought of the café-dreams Alison had given up. ‘Ali, I’m so sorry you couldn’t—’

‘Shh,’ Alison said, silencing him with another kiss. ‘It’s fine, Pete. Really, it is.’

When Alison and Pete got downstairs their two daughters were sitting at the breakfast table. Toast was going cold on plates they’d shoved to one side and George was up on the bench tilting his head against the table, trying to reach for a piece. Sophie was leaning forward and applying eyeliner to her little sister’s eyelids. Both girls looked up, startled, as their parents entered the room.

‘Holly, upstairs now,’ Pete said, ‘make-up off. Come on, I’m sure Mrs Brannigan is getting pretty tired of calling us by now.’

Holly sheepishly dashed under his raised arm and up the stairs with her head down.

‘Sophie. You know better.’ Alison shook her head. ‘Holly could have got sent home for that.’

Sophie sighed, put the lid back on her eyeliner and tucked it away in her bag. ‘You’ve got to admit it made her look cooler.’ A smile played at the corners of her mouth. ‘Who wants a geeky younger
sister?’

‘Better that than a suspended little sister, if you ask me,’ Pete said, sending her upstairs to get ready. Alison looked over at him, and as his eyes met hers she saw the partner she loved.

Alison swept a finger along the mantelpiece in Jamie’s new café premises, sending a layer of dust loose into the air.

‘This old fireplace is going to look great once we get it cleaned up,’ she said, inspecting the original tiles, and then glancing around the rest of the room.

The space Jamie was renting was located opposite the flower shop and next to the gift shops and boutiques that Charlesworth’s residents were so fond of browsing. The windows were large enough for the café to attract passing trade and natural light was flooding in, casting wide rectangles of sunshine on to the wooden floorboards.

‘And the back yard,’ Alison said, ‘I reckon you could spruce that up easily, get some garden chairs out there, make the most of the second half of the summer?’

Jamie smiled, and nodded. ‘Couldn’t agree more, in fact I was hoping to take advantage of your good nature a bit there.’ Alison laughed.

‘And as for the walls,’ Jamie said, pointing at the whitewashed brick, ‘there are couple of local artists who are interested in exhibiting their work
here. One does canvases with graphics of 1940s tins, packaging; and another, a student, puts together these gorgeous patchworks. You’d like them.’ Alison looked over at the wall, picturing how they’d look.

‘And then there’s Adam, he’s Brighton-based,’ Jamie continued. ‘He takes photographs of burlesque dancers, close-ups of nipple-tassels, stockings …’ Alison’s eyebrows shot up and Jamie gave her a wink. They both knew Charlesworth wasn’t quite ready for that.

‘Come over here, into my office, Ali.’ He grabbed a couple of deckchairs and placed them against the far wall so that they could survey the whole shop from where they were sitting. ‘It looks good, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s going to be fantastic,’ she replied. ‘And guess what – I’ve found just the place for you to get some authentic period furnishings.’

‘Really?’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve been trawling auctions but so far all the stuff I like has been way out of my price range.’

‘How does free sound?’ Alison said.

‘Are you serious?’ Jamie said, a grin spreading across his face.

‘Absolutely. And you don’t have to go far for it, either. I’ve met a terrific old couple in Willow Tree Close who are clearing out their attic – they have tons of original furniture up there by the sound of things. I had a chat on the phone with them yesterday and they
say that if you agree to take the lot and arrange the removal, they’d be happy for you to have it.’

Jamie’s eyes lit up. ‘That sounds ideal. It’s all going to be a bit rough around the edges in here, mismatched chairs and so on, so I’m sure we’ll be able to make use of most things. You’re a gem, Ali, thank you.’

‘Anytime,’ she said.

‘But listen,’ Jamie said. ‘I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.’ His tone was more serious now. ‘I’ve been thinking about how to launch the café with a bang. We’ll have a party here when the place is finished, and I want to follow that up by starting the early evening events: stitch and bitch sessions, crochet workshops, bunting classes – maybe even some rebel cross-stitch, you know … skulls and crossbones, that kind of thing, Sophie will probably be able to fill you in,’ Jamie said, moving his hands animatedly as he spoke.

‘Anyway,’ he continued. ‘I thought I might know just the woman to run them.’ He gave Ali’s arm a squeeze. ‘Imagine it – no overheads to think about, income as soon as you have a few attendees. I bet word of mouth will bring you big groups in no time. I mean, what else is there to do around here?’ Jamie said, with a smile. Yes, the quiet was part of Charlesworth’s charm, Alison thought, but it was true that it meant there were plenty of residents with spare time
on their hands.

‘Anyway, Ali,’ he said. ‘What do you think? Tell me you’re in?’

Alison smiled, then took his hand firmly and shook it. ‘You’ve got a deal. And even the bank manager’s not going to be able to stop me this time,’ she smiled.

Jamie beamed. Alison thought over some potential attendees; her sister-in-law was struggling to teach herself to knit, and Anna from Maggie’s shop would enjoy the rebel cross stitch. Hadn’t Megan in her pilates class asked about bunting too? Hopefully she’d have a full house in no time.

‘I can’t wait to get started,’ she said, full of excitement.

‘And Jamie,’ Alison said, after a pause, looking around the shop’s interior, ‘I still hope that maybe a few months down the line, you know, when Pete’s earned us a bit of money and we’ve paid off our debts. Maybe we could talk again, about renting this place together?’

Jamie smiled. ‘Of course, hon. That door is always open.’

‘Good, I’m pleased,’ she said.

Alison watched her friend as he gazed out over the room. ‘You know what, Jamie? You look really happy,’ she said, gently.

‘I do?’ he said.

‘Yes, you definitely do,’ she replied, with a nod.

‘I suppose I am,’ Jamie said, leaning back
on the blue-and-white striped fabric. ‘Remembering how to be, at least. And it’s not just the shop,’ he said coyly.

‘No?’

‘Nope,’ he replied, a smile at the corners of his mouth. ‘You know Adam, the burlesque photographer I told you about? He takes the occasional break, takes a few pictures of people in clothes too.’ Alison raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘Ali, do you remember the day I took George with me down to the beach for a run? Adam spotted us.’

‘Oh right, so he’s a wolfhound enthusiast?’ Alison said. ‘George, that old rogue. Does this guy want a cross-breed puppy? The litter’s nearly due.’

‘Adam does like George,’ Jamie said, taking his time over saying it, ‘but, well, he seems to like me quite a bit too.’

Alison put her hand on Jamie’s. She could have whooped with excitement, but she held it in – it was still early days.

‘He’s got good taste,’ Alison said. ‘And I’m glad to hear it, Jamie.’

They both looked out of the window then, at the people walking past. Women and men were peering in through the windows, although the glass panes were still grimy with plaster-dust, trying to make out what the empty shop might soon become. One little girl pressed her face up against the glass but the steam
from her breath meant she could see even less. Teenagers on their lunch hour scurried by, swinging their bags and chattering. If they’d lingered long enough they would have seen a middle-aged couple on deckchairs, slightly weathered by time but impeccably styled, and with a little more knowledge of how to be in love
than they’d thought they had.